


Solamente Tú y Yo

by youresoawkward



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, Terrible Dancing, That's as smutty as it gets really, light fondling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 07:25:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16090832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youresoawkward/pseuds/youresoawkward
Summary: Liam's eyes wander the crowd as the song changes to something slower and he shakes loose of the hands on his hips. It isn’t hard to find who he’s looking for, even through the mass of people and the dim lights of the club. The handsome man he noticed almost as soon as he was inside the club, leaning against the wall not far from the bar, nursing a drink. It seems every time he looks off the dance floor their eyes find each other, and the man’s dark gaze has lit a fire under his skin.Or, Liam wants to get familiar with the handsome stranger he spots from across the dance floor





	Solamente Tú y Yo

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Familiar for the Hiatus Fic Exchange. Big thanks to Heather (@empty_altars/coffeewordangel) for the beta read!

The dance floor is packed. Bodies pressing into him from all sides while the bass thumps loudly around him, vibrating deep in his chest. He leans into the person pressed behind him, shifting his hips back into their warmth, his body moving in time to the beat radiating out of the speakers overhead.

Liam loves this, loves the heat of the room, the people around him, moving together. He loves the hands on his skin, and the smell of perfume and alcohol and sweat in his nostrils. It always feels the same no matter what city he’s in.

His eyes wander the crowd as the song changes to something slower and he shakes loose of the hands on his hips. It isn’t hard to find who he’s looking for, even through the mass of people and the dim lights of the club. The handsome man he noticed almost as soon as he arrived, still leaning against the wall not far from the bar, nursing a drink. It seems every time he looks in the man's direction their eyes find each other, and his dark gaze has lit a fire under Liam's skin.

He had hoped the man would follow him on to the dance floor, but as the songs change and the stranger stays rooted to his place against the wall Liam realizes he’s going to have to take measures of his own. He’s not one to sit and wait for someone to come to him.

The air is noticeably cooler once he makes it out of the tangle of sweaty bodies, and he takes a big breath of it as he walks toward the man. He’s been travelling South America for a little over a month and a half now, and his Spanish has been improving each day, but he still recites his greeting in his head, slowly working over each syllable in his mind until he’s standing in front of the stranger.

“Hola. ¿Que tal?” Liam starts, mustering all his confidence. He can do this. He can chat up this handsome man in a language he only started using conversationally two months ago. Or at the very least, he can string enough words together to get them onto the dance floor.

The man smiles, lips quirked up at the corners and Liam didn’t think it was possible for him to become more attractive but he was dead wrong. “Bien, ¿y tú?”

His voice is lovely as well.

“Um, bien.” He’s practiced in basic greetings from his introductory Spanish course, but now he’s run to the end of where he feels truly confident conversing and has to think over what he’ll say next. He should’ve checked his translator app before just running over here. But now it’s too late for that so he gathers his words and hopes that he’s using the proper verbs so he won’t look like a total dumbass in front of this beautiful man. “¿Quieres bailar?”

The man blinks at him. Takes just enough of a pause to give Liam a moment of slight panic.

“No gracias,” the man says simply, shaking his head.

Rejection stings hot in Liam’s throat. Oh.

“O-okay, I’m s— I mean, lo siento. Um. I’ll, uh, I’ll just. Go. Or, va, I mean— voy.” He clamps his mouth shut before any more embarrassing utterances can leave it. He can’t believe what a fool he’s making of himself, chatting someone up is usually his strong suit. At least in English it is. Turns out he’s rubbish at it in Spanish.

He chances a glance at the man before he flees in shame and finds him with an amused smile painting his pretty lips.

Liam holds his breath while he waits for the man to say something, _anything_. Things can’t be that bad if he looks this entertained by him.

Instead of speaking he takes another sip of his drink and Liam’s not sure if he’s just messing with him at this point or if his Spanish is really so bad that the man has no idea what he’s said.

The stranger laughs after a moment, handsome face lit up, and even if it’s at Liam’s expense he doesn’t care; he just smiles back, delighted to have made him laugh.

“No offence meant, mate. M’ just not really much of a dancer is all,” the man says, Northern accent pronounced and Liam knows his mouth is hanging open but he’s completely taken off guard.

“You— you’re...” he trails off because the man _knows_ , knows where he’s from and knows that Liam stumbled over his mediocre Spanish for nothing, and now this man is laughing a sweet, intoxicating laugh to show that he _knows_.

“M’sorry, mate. I really am,” he hiccups out one last giggle, and reaches a hand out to Liam, squeezing his elbow in what Liam thinks is meant to be a comforting gesture. “But you looked _so_ determined to get it out, and you were doing so well at first. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Liam still can’t believe it but now that he can speak in his native language a bit of his confidence comes back to him. “If you think that was good you should hear me ask where the loo is.”

The man laughs again. “By all means, let’s hear it.”

“Maybe some other time. Don’t want to use up all my party tricks on the first night.” Liam watches the man’s eyebrows shoot up. “Shit, I mean— not that we’re going to see each other again— I mean. Not that I don’t _want_ to see you again. It’s just—“ _Fuck._

He’d like to disappear, just have the earth open up and take him to its fiery core because even that would be less painful than this moment. He can’t seem to stop putting his foot in it tonight.

He takes a breath.

“Can I get a do-over?” he asks, self deprecating laugh sticking in his throat.

The man still looks mostly amused but Liam thinks he might be better off just turning and making a run for it at this point. He’s going to end up being the punchline to a story about this man’s strangest encounter abroad that he tells to his friends and family back home, and the thought of that alone makes his skin feel hot with embarrassment.

“Mate, you don’t need a do-over. You're doing wonderfully.”

Liam genuinely can’t tell if he’s taking the piss or being sincere so he throws caution to the wind one last time. The stranger’s kind eyes and soft voice give him hope.

“Dance with me?”

The man shakes his head, smile rueful. “I meant it. Before. When I said I’m not much for dancing.” He shrugs, takes a sip of his drink and keeps his golden eyes on Liam.

“But you’re here?” Liam says, glancing around. This is a dance club after all.

“I mostly came to take in the views.” He winks at Liam, and it’s a combination of sweet and unbelievably suggestive and Liam has to struggle to control his blush.

“Oh. Well.” He clears his throat, disappointment having lodged itself there at being turned down again. “That’s, uh, that's too bad. But it was nice meeting you…?” He holds out his hand in greeting, hoping to at least get the stranger’s name.

“Zayn,” the man, _Zayn_ , replies, warm palm sliding against Liam’s.

“M’Liam,” he supplies for the sake of fairness. He’s not ready to break contact with Zayn’s soft skin, but he pulls away regardless. “Have a good night, Zayn.”

They exchange parting smiles and Liam finally turns to step back into the tangle of bodies on the dance floor. He finds a pocket of space big enough for himself and tries to get lost again in the music. He doesn’t regret trying to chat up Zayn, just wishes he hadn’t blown it so spectacularly.

The speakers play something familiar, the beat fast, and it’s only a few moments before the crowd is closing in on him again, hands and arms and bodies pressing against him. He closes his eyes and sways to the music, forgets about the pretty stranger and the sting of rejection.

When someone presses against his back he leans into them and rocks his hips back, but they stay unmoving behind him. He pulls away to move to another spot, but a warm hand circles his bicep and he turns.

Zayn stands there, half smile on his face. “I really am a terrible dancer,” he says, voice barely loud enough to be heard over the music. “But maybe I could go for a song or two.” He shrugs.

Liam moves in closer, hands resting on Zayn’s slim hips. He’s pleased but he tries to keep his giddiness in check. 

“I’d like that.”

Zayn nods, drapes his arms around Liam’s shoulders. “But you can’t laugh.”

“Never,” Liam replies instantly. Zayn squints at him like he’s checking for sincerity and Liam puts on his best look of wide-eyed innocence.

“Ok then,” Zayn says. He stays unmoving, so Liam starts them off, just a small step forward and then another back. Zayn follows his lead, still rigid in Liam’s arms but moving nonetheless.

They take some time to warm up and for Zayn to relax into the movement of their bodies enough that he doesn’t feel like he’d break if Liam gripped him too tightly, but he still keeps his back and hips stiff, only shuffling his feet enough to keep up with Liam.

Zayn glances around the dance floor every so often, appraising the other dancers and Liam just wants to get him out of his own head so he can lose himself in the act.

When the music shifts to something slow and sultry Liam moves his body into Zayn’s, closing the space between them. Zayn allows it, looking at Liam with trepidation, much of the confidence he had displayed earlier gone.

“Don’t overthink it, yeah? Dancing’s just about letting loose and having fun,” Liam tells him, and Zayn nods.

“Just feel stupid s’all.” Zayn laughs a bit at himself, and Liam can’t help but lean into him.

“You don’t look stupid,” Liam assures him and Zayn rolls his eyes, but he presses closer as well and Liam takes that as a good sign.

He’s cautious to start, moving his hips slowly against Zayn, shuffling his feet back and forth, not pressing too hard, but giving Zayn a pattern to follow. Zayn for his part tries to mimic the fluid movement of Liam’s body but he’s still so tense with it all that they just end up knocking against each other without purpose.

“Sorry,” Zayn mumbles after the second time he knees Liam in the thigh. “Told you I’m no good at this.” He pulls back then, right out of Liam’s arms.

“Hey,” Liam starts, looping his fingers around Zayn’s wrist before he bolts from the dance floor and Liam never sees him again. “Let’s try something else, yeah?”

There’s a moment of hesitation before Zayn nods. Liam moves behind him, cupping his hips, bodies pressed together. “This ok?” he asks into Zayn’s ear. He feels Zayn nod against him, his hands coming to rest over Liam’s.

Liam rolls his body with the beat, squeezing his fingers into Zayn’s hips. “Just move with me. Don’t think too much.”

Clumsily Zayn follows Liam’s lead, shifting his hips back and forth jerkily.

“Imagine it’s just me and you here,” Liam murmurs into Zayn’s ear. “Forget about everyone else.”

That seems to calm Zayn’s nerves and he relaxes some, his body more pliant under Liam’s fingers. When Liam rolls his hips into Zayn’s bum, Zayn finds the rhythm this time and presses back harder. It’s mesmerizing for Liam, to look down the line of Zayn’s body and see his hips working in soft, fluid circles.

“Fuck, Zayn,” Liam whispers, soft enough that he’s not sure Zayn hears except that he grinds back harder and squeezes Liam’s hands where they’re still sat on Zayn’s hips.

Zayn tips his head back, long line of his neck exposed, hips still rocking back to meet Liam’s with each heavy thump of the bass. The temptation to kiss Zayn’s neck weighs on him, but he holds himself back, instead skimming the tip of his nose along Zayn’s skin until his lips are hovering just above the soft skin behind Zayn’s ear. When he speaks his lips graze the lobe and Zayn shivers in Liam’s arms.

“Y’look amazing like this. Don’t know what you were worried about.”

Zayn smiles, a small laugh rumbling through his chest. “Not sure I’d call this dancing. M’still rubbish at that.”

Liam breathes out a laugh and chances brushing a light kiss behind Zayn’s ear. Zayn leans into him more soundly, body firm against his front and he slides one set of their hands just under the hem of his own shirt to rest on his warm stomach.

Liam lets his fingertips skim over the coarse hair of Zayn’s belly, while his lips trail lightly over the smooth skin of his neck. He can feel Zayn’s breath hitch when his pinky catches against the elastic of his briefs, but he doesn't press further.

Arousal courses under his skin. The music, the darkness, Zayn’s warmth pressed solidly to him, the slow, steady grind of their hips, all working together to set his body on fire and he feels himself hardening with every addictive press of Zayn’s bum against him.

“Zayn, I— _fuck_ ,” he hisses when Zayn twists his hips back harder. He makes to pull away, sure Zayn can feel how hard he is now. “M’sorry I’m—”

“It’s okay,” Zayn assures, tilting his head to the side to peer up at Liam through dark lashes. “I am too. Feel.” And with that he guides Liam’s hand downward, slow enough that Liam could pull away, but he finds he doesn’t want to. He wants to know what he’s doing to Zayn, wants to know this is affecting Zayn as much as it’s affecting him.

Zayn presses their hands against himself over his jeans, warm and solid and so hard for Liam. He cups him for a moment, feeling him, before he pulls their hands away. He doesn’t want to take liberties.

Zayn turns in his arms, pushing his thigh between Liam’s, and Liam does the same. Neither of them make a move to leave the dance floor; there’s no urgency, no rush, just the two of them, rocking against each other for the sake of unhurried pleasure.

 

They leave the club with the crowd after last call and Liam keeps his hand in Zayn’s, not wanting to lose him in the sea of bodies. They follow the flow and walk down the main road. Liam’s not sure if this is the direction he needs to take to get back to his room but he doesn’t care. He’s not ready for his night with Zayn to be over. They keep walking, even as the people disperse and they are left mostly alone walking along hand-in-hand.

The night air is cool against his sweaty skin, and the long walk helps quiet the arousal that’s been coursing through him since he first took Zayn into his arms.

“My hostel’s just a few blocks from here,” Zayn says, stopping when they reach an intersection, gesturing that he needs to turn. “Are you going this way as well?”

Liam looks around. The area doesn’t look familiar but he’s been to so many cities in the past few weeks that almost nothing ever looks familiar to him anymore. “I really don’t know. I’ll have to look it up.” He shrugs. He’s not concerned about getting back right now. Not when Zayn’s here. “I’ll walk you the rest of the way.”

Zayn smiles, squeezes Liam’s hand. “I’d like that. Even though I can take care of myself.” He makes a fist with his free hand and punches the air.

Liam laughs. “You’re a tough guy, yeah?”

“Pretty much,” Zayn nods, smiling big, his nose scrunched up, and Liam has an overwhelming desire to pull Zayn against his chest and kiss him but he tamps it down.

“Maybe you should be walking me home then,” Liam teases.

“Maybe if you knew where you were going I would,” Zayn answers back, giggling.

“Fair enough,” Liam agrees.

They walk the few blocks to Zayn’s building in relative silence, fingers still laced and shoulders knocking together. It’s a beautiful night, the sky is clear and the stars are shining bright, and when Zayn pulls them to a stop and whispers that they’re at his place Liam can’t help the disappointment he feels.

Zayn walks up the first two steps toward the main entrance but turns back before going further. “I had a really nice time tonight,” he says, voice low to match the stillness of the late hour.

“Me too,” Liam agrees. “Maybe— can I see you tomorrow? We could go to dinner?”

Liam had plans to set off for Argentina tomorrow but he’d stay here indefinitely if it meant more time with Zayn.

Zayn smiles, something soft that makes Liam’s heart swell. “I— I _would_ really like that, but,” he pauses, teeth pressing into his bottom lip. “But I’m leaving for Arequipa tomorrow. I’ve already got my ticket.”

Disappointment lodges itself in Liam’s gut but he pushes it down. Some things just aren’t meant to be.

“Oh. You’ll love it there. Amazing food. And the canyon is really beautiful.”

“I’m touring the canyon in a few days. I’ll be in the city until then.”

“Ahh, cool,” Liam nods.

A silence lingers between them and for the first time all night Liam feels desperate to fill it. With Zayn’s intent gaze on him he racks his brain to find a way to keep Zayn’s attention a bit longer but he falters.

“Well, um,” Liam starts when the silence becomes unbearable. “Safe travels, Zayn.”

He lifts their hands that are still intertwined to his lips, placing a kiss to Zayn’s knuckles, chaste, especially compared to the way he’d touched Zayn earlier in the night. This somehow feels more intimate.

Zayn smiles and takes a step back down toward Liam so they are nearly chest to chest. He looks at Liam with soft eyes, and he’s just so lovely it makes his breath gets lost in his throat.

“I wanna kiss you,” Zayn says, steady gaze searching Liam’s eyes.

Liam wets his lips and nods. He wants that too, has all night.

There’s a moment before Zayn leans in where he takes Liam’s chin between his fingers, scratching over coarse strands of the beard he’s let grow while he’s been travelling. When their lips meet it’s just a soft press, like Zayn wants to ease into it.

Liam loves soft kisses like this, anticipation slowly building between them until they break and tumble into something more passionate.

Zayn nibbles his bottom lip before soothing over it with his tongue, and Liam groans against him, pulls him closer. The desire that’s been thrumming under his skin all night takes over and he licks into Zayn’s mouth, wanting to taste him.

He loses himself in Zayn for what could be hours. All that matters in this moment is Zayn’s soft mouth, and the drag of his stubble against his lips, and the gentle way Zayn’s fingers tangle in his hair, pulling every so often and sending pleasant shivers down his spine.

When Zayn pulls away it’s with several measured kisses, slowing their passion until Zayn just rests his forehead against Liam’s, eyes closed and breathing ragged.

“That was... really nice,” he finally says, straightening up fully and leaving Liam feeling the full chill of the night air.

“Yeah,” Liam agrees, still a bit dazed and in awe of how swollen and red Zayn’s lips look in this moment. He should ask him for another kiss, or to stay the night, or maybe ask him to just give up on Arequipa and to go to Argentina with Liam instead. But in the end he doesn’t ask Zayn any of those things because Zayn speaks first.

“Here’s my Snap,” Zayn says, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Maybe when we’re back home, we can meet up?” He bites his lip.

“That’d be ace,” Liam assures, relieved that Zayn wants to see him again at all. He pulls his own phone out to add Zayn, and smiles when he sees Zayn’s Bitmoji is sticking its tongue out at him.

“I’ll see you around then,” Liam says when their phones are tucked away in their pockets.

Zayn nods and leans in, soft lips pressing against Liam’s, just a simple pressure before Zayn pulls back, palm cupping Liam’s face. “You gunna make it home alright?”

 _This is it_ , Liam thinks, swallowing down a tinge of sadness and giving Zayn a small smile.

“Yeah. I’ll be good.”

“Ok,” Zayn sighs. “Goodnight, Liam.”

A final kiss goodbye, and Zayn is disappearing into his hostel.

Liam stands there a moment, head tilted back and eyes on the clear sky above before pulling out his phone to figure out how to get back to his own rented room, his heart heavier than he’d like to admit.

 

The club in Arequipa is hazy from the heat and the mass of bodies in the room, but Liam still spots him almost immediately. He looks ethereal, Liam thinks, with the way the lights are hitting him. He watches him sip his drink, eyes bright and taking in the people dancing from the safety of a barstool.

Liam hesitates a moment while he watches Zayn. The possibility that he won’t be happy Liam’s used his Snapchat against him and followed him here weighing at the back of Liam’s mind. But it’s too late to worry about that. He’s here now, and if Zayn doesn’t want him, then he’ll just turn around and head back, no harm done.

The walk toward Zayn is slow going as he weaves through the crowd until he’s standing just behind him.

“D’you wanna dance?” Liam asks, lips tight to Zayn’s ear so he can hear over the music and a light hand on Zayn’s waist.

Zayn jolts in surprise and gives Liam a swift elbow to the gut. The blow knocks the wind out of him momentarily, and he doubles over in pain. This is not how he expected his second meeting with Zayn to go at all.

“Liam?” Zayn’s crouched in front of him now, eyes big and concerned and Liam smiles at him as best he can while his ribs throb.

“M’fine,” Liam assures, breath still weak but he straightens up to face Zayn properly. “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that. It’s my fault.”

Zayn smiles then too, stepping forward he cups Liam’s ribs where his elbow landed. “You really shouldn’t have. Didn’t I tell you I was a master fighter?”

“You did. I should’ve listened,” Liam agrees. “So. Do you maybe wanna dance?”

Zayn looks at him, expression curious before he nods.

Liam leads them to the center of the dance floor, wasting no time wrapping Zayn in his arms.

They sway together, far from the dirty grind of yesterday, but just as good with Zayn’s hands on his shoulders and warm gaze on his face.

“I don’t know why you’re here right now, but I’m happy you are,” Zayn confesses after a few minutes.

“I didn’t think I could wait until I got home to see you again,” Liam tells him earnestly. It’s probably too much to confess so soon, but he can’t help this intense pull Zayn has on him.

Zayn smiles, eyes crinkling with the force of it. “You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps.” Liam feels a blush on his cheeks. Zayn makes him want to be romantic, makes him want to pick flowers to give to him, makes him want to cook Zayn breakfast in bed, and to write him poems lauding the beauty of his soul. Makes him want to kiss him till he’s breathless, to lay with him, to make love to him, and to worship every inch of him with his mouth. But maybe that’s all too much to confess so soon as well.

“Well Romeo, what happens next?” Zayn asks, fingers brushing through the short hairs at the nape of Liam’s neck, playful glint in his eye.

“Next, we dance until they kick us out,” he answers. “Then, whatever we want I suppose.”

A contented smile plays at Zayn’s lips and he nods, laying his head on Liam’s shoulder and letting him lead them in slow circles.

Liam holds him close, mind adrift with the possibilities of where he’ll end up next, and content in knowing Zayn will be there with him.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are greatly appreciated <333


End file.
